


all's fair in love and (prank) war

by Avengerz



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Flirting, Fluff, Heist, Light Angst, M/M, Not Beta Read, Prank Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 10:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avengerz/pseuds/Avengerz
Summary: They wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for the stupid prank war.Or: a snapshot into the life of a cranky detective and a besotted thief





	all's fair in love and (prank) war

**Author's Note:**

> I promised too many people on the thief of hearts discord a fic and ended up with a bunch of prompts. So i did my best to mash "jupeter prank war" and "Juno and peter being protective of each other in dire situations" and jupeter "half argue/flirting" with a month of not writing and a sprinkling of angst and here we are

“Really, Juno, this is no time for games.”

“That’s rich, coming from a guy who once bet my life on a game of poker.”

“We’ve discussed this, Juno, you were perfectly safe!”

“Yeah, about as safe as I am now.” As if to illustrate his point, a laser blast slams into the plasti-steel inches from Juno’s head, and he pulls himself hurriedly further back into the utility closet in which he and Peter Nureyev are hidden.

“I suppose that’s a fair point, but is this really the time for… what is that, solitaire?”

Juno scowls down at the comm in his hand. “Shut up, Nureyev, I’m working on something.”

Peter leans past him and takes a carefully aimed shot down the hallway. There’s a squeal and crash signaling one of the automated turrets’ destruction, but three more laser blasts chase Peter back into the relative protection of the closet. “Working on what? Your high score?”

Juno transfers his scowl to Peter, who just smiles back, fox-like. “No. Rita got me this software that should shut down the automated defenses, but I can’t find it. The system’s all messed up. I didn’t even think I had solitaire on here.”

Something flashes across Peter’s face – something that, if Juno didn’t know him any better, he might call guilt. “Ah.”

Juno eyes Peter and his fading smile suspiciously. “What did you do?”

To Peter’s credit, he doesn’t fake innocence. “I may have, ah, shuffled the contents of your comm. A bit.”

“Nureyev!”

“Well I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t switched my hair pomade for icing!”

Juno shoots down the hallway without looking away from Peter and is rewarded with the metallic screech of a turret’s untimely death. “You’re the one who convinced Rita to lock me out of my office for a week.”

“Yes I did, after _you_ deleted all of my recorded streams.”

“I only did that because you kept throwing out my art!”

“You mean those poor excuses for paintings you had in your apartment?” Peter shoots out another turret before turning back to Juno, his hair falling into his eyes and a frustrated twist to his features. “I put those in storage, you know that.”

Juno blinks. “You did?”

Peter blinks back. “Well, yes. I wouldn’t throw away something of yours without asking, Juno.”

“Oh.” Juno suddenly feels rather foolish. “So this whole… prank war thing was for nothing?”

Peter’s lips have begun twitching. “Well… yes, I suppose so.”

“And my paintings aren’t festering in some Hyperion dump?”

“No, Juno, I’ve stored them with some of my other art. I just couldn’t bear seeing them on the walls while we made love.”

“Sex, Nureyev, we have sex. We fuck. It’s not- not that.”

“Whatever you say, Juno.” Peter’s definitely smiling now.

Juno turns away to take a few shots at the last turret – and certainly not to hide his burning face from Peter’s gentle gaze. “Yeah, well. Whatever. I think the turrets are all out.” Juno steps out into the hallway with his blaster drawn – but nothing moves in the hallway but the occasional sparks and billowing smoke from the downed turrets.

“Wait, Juno-”

“Let’s go.” Juno takes two steps down the hallway – and takes a heavy blow to the gut. The force of it knocks Juno against the wall and his breath leaves his lungs in a great _whoosh_ of displaced air. He gasps, chokes on the smoke, coughs, gasps again. His eyes are watering, but he can see the smoking hole on the opposite side of the hall – the remnants of a laser blast that would have caught Juno through the neck.

Juno chokes on another breath, turns his smoke-strained eyes to the weight across his legs. It’s Peter, his eyes wide and his teeth grit, his arm snapping forward with a knife that Juno’s eyes follow through the air to a turret that he’d mistaken as dead. The laser blade slices through the middle of the structure and the turret collapses in a rumble of creaking metal and billowing smoke.

Juno breathes in, out, tries to remember how babies learned to keep oxygen in their lungs. There are hands on his face then, Peter’s face filling his vision.

“Juno,” he’s saying, then, louder, “Juno! Are you hurt? Juno!”

Juno coughs again, drags in a shaking breath. “’M fine. Didn’t hit me. Just gotta-” He dissolves into a coughing fit, his body desperate to rid his lungs of smoke. Peter’s hands are on his face, his shoulders, holding Juno steady as he hacks and wheezes.

Through watering eyes Juno watches the world whirl about him as Peter picks him up in a bridal carry and strides down the hallway. “Don’t need to carry me,” Juno mutters. “I’m fine.” He means to say more, but coughing carries his words away. It rather undermines his point, and Peter’s expression just pinches tighter in an emotion Juno likes to call _angerworry_. It’s an expression that Juno happens to see quite a lot on the faces of people who care about him.

The air is clearing as they move, and so are Juno’s lungs. When he can take a full breath without his throat catching on smoke, he taps at Peter’s arms until he’s let down to the floor.

“That,” Peter says, “was _spectacularly_ stupid. You could have been killed! You _always_ check the automated defenses are down with a hat or something, not your stupid vulnerable self!”

“Okay,” Juno’s too tired to argue what is a very valid point. “Yeah, my bad.”

Peter’s anger fades back into concern as he crouches beside Juno. “Are you okay, Juno? Truly?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Juno says, and means it. He grins crookedly at Peter. “You’re like my personal Andromeda, rushing in to save me.”

“Oh, shut up,” Peter says, but pink tinges his cheeks. “We both know you’re the tragic hero in this story. I’m just glad I could be there in time.”

“Yeah.” Juno thinks about the smoking hole where his throat would have been, and swallows roughly. “Me, too.”

They stay there for a moment, breathing in the clean air and each other’s presence.

“Alright, well, we’ve still got a statue to steal, right?”

Peter sighs with familiar exasperation. “We’re not stealing it, Juno, because it doesn’t rightfully belong to the Mortigan company. Their founder stole it from the people of Proxima Centauri-”

Juno waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, okay, we’re ‘repossessing’ it. Still gotta get through the rest of the security, right?”

Peter draws himself to his full height, pulling Juno up along with him. “Yes, we do. As long as you’re sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Nureyev, really.” Juno picks up his blaster and shoots Peter a look that’s more fond than annoyed. “No need to go all mother hen on me.”

“Well clearly someone needs to! I’ve seen the state of your kitchen, remember?” Despite the words, Juno notices how Peter places himself in front of Juno as they continue down the hall, acting as a human shield from any potential danger.

Warmth floods like whiskey down his throat and through his chest, and Juno directs a grin at the back of Peter’s head. He’s lucky to have this man at his side, in his bed, in his life. The unexpected joy of it all catches up to Juno and for a moment he’s breathless again, struck by how much he loves Peter Nureyev. (And it is love, isn’t it, even if Juno can only admit it in the privacy of his own head.)

He must be quiet for too long, because Peter looks back over his shoulder. “Juno?”

The concern and the love and the damned emotionality of it all is too much to deal with right now, so Juno shakes his head and smirks at Peter. “You know, that wouldn’t have happened at all if you hadn’t messed with my phone.”

Guilt flashes across Peter’s face, eased by exasperation as he catches the teasing tone of Juno’s words. “I wouldn’t have been forced to resort to such base measures if you hadn’t messed with my hair products!”

“I couldn’t get into my office for a week, Nureyev! That’s seven days!”

Peter sniffs and turns back towards their destination, but not before Juno catches the smile on his face. “Now you know not to mess with my recordings. I was really looking forward to watching some of those, you know.”

Juno grins and follows Peter Nureyev into danger once more. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this (or even if you didn't), please leave me a comment because i live off of validation and i'm currently dangerously malnourished
> 
> also if you want you can follow me on [tumblr](https://offbrandginger.tumblr.com/)


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